Demon of the Desert
by Thunderxtw
Summary: Zafina, the strongest in her tribe, struggles to find peace and acceptance in her native land. After being informed of a certain threat looming over the horizon, she sets out to face it head-on.


**Author's Note:** Ever since I saw the video preview of Tekken 6, I said I wanted to do a story on Zafina. For a long time I've wanted Namco to give us a Middle Eastern character and they finally have. I've been working on this piece since mid last year, albeit I've taken some breaks in between to work on my other projects. Having endured countless delays because of work and other nuisances in my life, I am proud to finally announce I've finished the first chapter. I'm not totally sure what direction the entire plot will take, but knowing me the idea'll come. Hope you enjoy.

**This fic has been rated T for:** violence, some language, and maybe a little gore.

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**_Demon of the Desert_**

**_Chapter 1_**

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The heat-engulfed world around her was bright, dusty like the desert, but lacking in both quiet and emptiness. This stony brown settlement of sand-peppered pillars and mudbricked dwellings she referred to as home. However, as she crossed into the more populated part of the area, any thoughts of what home felt like dissipated. A home was a place where one felt welcome, at peace, and didn't have to hide their face behind veils or slabs of stone.

Right now, she could feel dozens of eyes watching her, their stares lingering as if they had nothing better to do with their time.

Everywhere she walked, the villagers did the same routine. Sometimes, they'd turn their heads away, gossiping and whispering words like _demon_ and _witch_ about her amongst themselves when she passed by; others, they'd scream, collect their children, and confine themselves to their homes until she was gone.

Zafina knew the truth. She noticed the way their bodies trembled, the way their faces paled, the way their voices broke in mid-sentence at her presence. It was hard to ignore, hard not to roll her eyes and sigh at their ever-growing ignorance.

She was one of the village's sworn protectors, yet the inhabitants looked at her with fear and disgust. Her background was common knowledge, a history of maiming and killing criminals, anyone who so much as threatened the village's tranquility. It was a duty she carried with dignity, for she was a woman given a large responsibility only the best of warriors received.

However, life wasn't always just protecting people and valuable interests. Each day, she went inside the village mosque, shuffling to where the women prayed; she'd knelt on the rug, hands clasped together, praying for an everlasting peace within her village and the world itself. Whether she was fortunate enough to make it to the mosque or not, she'd made it a priority to pray five times daily.

On ordinary days, she'd roam the village, feeling the warm sand between her toes as she dug them in and out in relaxation, feel the heat of the sun's oppressive rays through her cloaking garment. She'd espy the children chasing each other in circles through the open streets, and acknowledge the snake charmers and illusionists entertaining a clamoring crowd near the bazaar.

With the holiday on the horizon, all Zafina could do was groan. Holidays were times for families and people to come together, to celebrate, and to worship. Zafina, on the other hand, chose to spend most holidays alone, huddled against stones and rocky walls elsewhere in seclusion. She saw no need to involve herself in the festivities or socialize with the people, although, sometimes, she'd wonder what that kind of interaction was like.

Her short trip was just about over, yet, she felt something tug at her senses.

"Zafina!" A youthful voice called out to her. She turned her head and slowed her stroll, seeing it was Asif, kaftan and all, running to her side. "Hey, hey! Where are you heading?"

"I'm off to see someone."

"Oh, oh!" He jumped twice, as if he couldn't contain his excitement. "Can I come?"

Zafina's eyes moved in sync with his constant hopping. "They only requested me."

"Aw!" He pouted, halting another leap.

"Maybe next time." She smirked. "You've been staying out of trouble, yes?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"You haven't been stealing food from the market again, have you?"

Asif answered with a rapid headshake, his tiny brown eyes averting from her face. "N-no. Of course not."

Zafina squinted at the unusual bulge in his apparel, reached inside it, and pulled out an apple. "And…what do you call this?" She glared at the fruit, then at him.

"Oh, that?" He tittered and started rubbing the back of his head. "I-I found that. Y-yeah, yeah. F-found it…somewhere."

"You're a terrible liar, Asif." Zafina snorted. "Return it." She flung the apple back to him.

He caught the fruit single-handed, squealing and shaking his wrist from the force of her throw. After fumbling with the apple, he stowed it back in his clothes. "Aww, c'mon. It's just one measly apple! It isn't like that man's gonna notice it's missing when he's got a whole bunch in his cart!"

"That man works hard for what he gets everyday. It wouldn't hurt you to pay him. And it also wouldn't hurt you to consider getting a job to support your family, so you wouldn't have to steal all the time."

Asif's jaw dropped. "A job? Who needs a job? That's so boring! I like going on adventures, y' know? That's where the fun's at."

Zafina's gaze swept the village, suspecting their conversation would draw unneeded attention. "You should go. It's best your parents not see you talking to me."

He waved his hand in a careless gesture. "I don't care about what they think. They always say you'll take my soul or something if I come anywhere near you. But you protect us, right? So how does that make you bad?" He tilted his head to the side, expecting an answer. She'd give him one, but not the one he wanted, for he didn't need to know.

"You may not agree with your parents, but they know what's best for you. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

The little boy tugged at her garment. "Come on. Do the thing."

"I've already-"

"Come on. Please? Just once and I promise I won't bug you again!"

"Very well." Zafina squatted to the boy's height, ushering him closer with a friendly smile. "Give me your hand."

Asif smiled as her fingers started tracing the lines of his palm when he offered it to her. He giggled, insisting her touch was ticklish, but she urged him to stay quiet and cooperate anyway.

Palmistry, like astrology, was not just a hobby to her, but also a guide, foretelling a person's life and hinting at where it was best to take it. The children always flocked to her to have their palms read and their lives paraphrased, often through arguing and fighting over who went first. Unlike their parents, the children didn't fear Zafina, and it was their naivety and optimism that made her feel more like she belonged here. Because of this, she maintained a sense of compassion and honesty with them. Nevertheless, whenever a child's palm pattern displayed a more negative than positive reading, Zafina thought it best to exaggerate; it was better if the children had hope in their life as opposed to having none at all.

"You are adventurous and have a great enthusiasm for life." Zafina released his hand, giving him an approving nod as he jumped twice again. "Sounds like you."

"All right! See? I told you. Man, you're really good at this!"

"Yes, and now, I have to go. I can't keep them waiting any longer."

"Okay, bye Zafina!"

She watched him scurry off to accompany his friends playing at one of the adjacent food stalls. What a child, full of questions and enthusiasm, just as she once was at his age.

She noted two women staring at her, blocking her way. All it took was one look from her to make them move aside and let her through. To have such power over people seemed amusing, however, it was anything but. If only one day they could see her as one of them instead of as something else.

Evading the frolicking children, stray goats, and the occasional busker, Zafina made it to her destination: the home of Rusul, the village elder.

His duty consisted of watching over the village, sharing his wisdom, and healing the emotionally wounded. But, most of all, he was the only person Zafina confided in, about her troubles, and about her powers. Whenever she needed to clear her mind, she'd join him in sitting down and twisting her limbs into the lotus position to meditate. In her youth, through the times she was alone and scared, he was there, consoling her shuddering form with his hand, uttering words of comfort with the serene sound of his voice. Through lectures and the warmth of the embraces they had in private, he instilled her with confidence and fathered her as if she were his own.

Upon entering the elder's quarters, she removed her headscarf, knelt, and prostrated herself before him. "You summoned me."

"I did, and I'm glad you're here. I wasn't sure if my message got through to you or not. I feel my telepathy skills have become a bit rusty. " Rusul sat in his room, his head held high and his posture straight. "Please, come closer, Zafina. My eyes aren't as good as they used to be, so I can't see you very well." She did as told, earning a worrisome glance from him. "Something troubling you?"

Her eyes went downcast as she felt his dry, wrinkled hand on her shoulder. At this proximity, she could smell the cleansed scent of his garb. "The people…they're afraid of me. They treat me like some sort of…monster."

His graying eyebrows shot up before settling into a confused scowl. "People often fear what they don't understand. It is hard for them to adapt to you. They're not used to living with someone who can see things before they happen, and your body language often frightens them as well. You're a woman unlike any other around here."

"But it's been years, elder, years. We're not people who slander or backbite, and it seems they've forgotten that. I don't see there being any peace between me and the villagers, no matter what I do."

"Do not speak like that. Although I do not appreciate their behavior, I feel they'll come around. You just have to wait. Give them time." Before she could say more, he gestured her to let him speak, and, out of respect, she obeyed. "Zafina, please listen to what I am about to say." Silence brewed between them a moment as his raised his chest and exhaled. "As you know, I am growing older and my time on this earth is drawing shorter. I'm sure you're aware of that."

Zafina's head bowed as she squeezed her eyes shut. She knew he was old, but, thankfully, it wasn't his time to leave this world just yet.

"I ask that you not mourn my death when it happens. I have lived a good life and I have taught you all that I can. When the villagers learn of my passing, I will be replaced."

Zafina's hand clenched on the floor, her emotions suppressed. She'd rather hear anything but that right now.

"Now—to the reason I called you here." Rusul cleared his throat. "There is a dark force growing far from this land. I trust you have seen this evil too?"

"Yes…I've had visions."

The dreams she had, frequent as they were, contained images of houses caving in, lakes running dry, and billowing storm clouds. Dozens of corpses would lie at her feet, some of them children, most of them people from her village. Before long, she'd hear blood-curdling screams and see the flesh from her hands starting to melt off her bones. At all this, she'd let out a shrill scream and she too would perish as a wall of fire consumed her body.

Zafina recalled writhing in her bed late at night, gasping and awakening in a cold sweat. "What does it all mean, elder?"

More silence.

"The end of the world."

Zafina's heart skipped a beat, her eyes wide as she pictured the world turning into a barren wasteland. It seemed impossible to imagine, but the premonitions were never wrong. Gifted with spiritual powers since birth, Zafina hadn't known if they were a curse or a blessing. She could foresee the future; yet, at the same time, the future was often bleak and haunted her day and night like a restless ghost.

"You leave tomorrow morning for the temple where this dark entity resides. I've arranged to have someone bring you a horse, a map, and some supplies for you to take. I wish you the best on your journey."

"Forgive me for questioning, elder, but why choose me?"

Rusul groaned, as if he didn't like the question, yet his tone emanated anything but contempt. "Normally, I'd entrust such a duty to a man, but you're the best warrior we have, and it's not often a woman ranks the highest among the tribe. You're of a rare breed, Zafina. That's why I chose you out of all the others. I have the utmost faith in you."

"What of the others?"

The elder brushed his long, bushy beard. "The rest will stay here to guard the village in your absence. It is not wise to send them out as well and leave this place vulnerable, should it be attacked."

Zafina let out a quiet but comprehending "mhm."

Zafina was once the guardian of the village's imperil tomb, tasked with protecting its treasures and secrets from outsiders and would-be thieves. She was among a cohesive group of high-class warriors, like herself, who put their lives on the line and did their jobs without question. If the elder thought she befitted the role of venturing out to combat the dark forces, then she had no place to argue.

"Zafina…for years I have watched you grow from a young girl…into a courageous woman." His voice broke into a violent cough. Zafina stood and reached over to aid him, but with a quick raise of his hand he signaled her to remain where she was. "I am happy to have been able to witness the chang-" Rusul coughed, much more than before.

Her mouth was agape. "Elder!"

"Zafina…I'm-" he rasped.

He clutched his heart, wheezing, perspiration streaming down his face and off his chin. His anguish prompted Zafina to rush to his side and grasp his wrist, her teeth gritting, urging him to stay with her.

With one final gasp, his hands dropped and dangled at his sides, and his head leaned sideways as he fell back in his chair. It was only half a minute since he last moved his body or spoke.

With slow movement, she placed her two fingers to the side of his Adam's apple, finding he had no pulse.

Everything was clear at that point.

No longer could she see him smile or hear him laugh; his voice was gone, as was his soul, carried away to an eternal rest. Thus began the reverie of the stories he used to share, the times they spent together, and what he meant to her village.

Zafina closed her eyes in mourning as a single tear rolled down her cheek; then opened and narrowed them in understanding of what she had to do. Rusul's death was unavoidable, but the future still had a chance to change, and as long as she was alive, she'd see that it would.


End file.
